Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Morning Beers on a Train



This past weekend I made a visit to Budapest, Hungary. After 12 hours on an overnight train, and being scared awake three times by Border Patrol, we arrived in a city where you can’t guess your way around. In case you didn’t know, Hungarian is nothing like the Romance languages.
The metro took us straight to our hostel, which turned out to be a single room next door to the owners’ apartment, definitely a steal for about $20 a night. This trip was my first experience, other than the euro, trying to convert dollars. I am a Finance major, however, I do not claim good mental math skills. My bankcard kept being declined at the ATM, so of course I assumed it was the bank’s fault because I am always right… WRONG… I called Wachovia and the nice customer service representative told me that I was trying to withdraw $756 when I was really only trying to take out $200, whoops. One word of advice, double-check your math prior to withdrawals to prevent draining your bank account in a low value currency.
After getting everything settled, and the appropriate amounts of money, we were off to see the city. Our first stop was the Central Market and shopping street, clearly my favorite part. The market was packed with vendors selling Hungary’s finest lace, hand painted wood, paprika and porcelain. After a long night of travel, Jourdan and I quickly moved to the food where we had Langos, special Hungarian fried dough with various toppings, delicious! After our exceptionally healthy lunch we went to the Szchenyi bathhouse for a soak in the natural hotspring pool, with a great atmosphere of Eastern European architecture and old men in much too tight Speedos; I’m pretty sure in America they would be arrested for indecent exposure. When I left Italy I thought I was escaping the massive amounts of “PDA,” wrong again, the warm pool is quite the couples retreat. Despite the awkward lovers and wrinkly old men, the bathhouse was really neat and a great experience.
That night we had planned to go on a pub-crawl in hopes of meeting other people and having a few good drinks. We got to the meeting spot and our pub-crawl group turned out to be a team of three, Jourdan, the guide, and myself… Go Team! Our guide showed us several bars that we would have otherwise never found, where we had some great Hungarian beer, and excessively strong liquor.
The next day was a race to see as much of Budapest as we could before our train at 5:00. We went to some impressive places: St. Matthia’s church, St. Stephen’s basilica, Parliament, and the Dohany St. Synagogue. The architecture and elaborate designs of these buildings is amazing! St. Stephen’s basilica is the home of a relic, the hand of St. Stephen. The synagogue is a place of pride for Budapest’s Jewish community and their perseverance through Nazi occupation. There they have a garden that houses the mass grave of 2,300 Jews killed during the Holocaust.
 Our time flew by and we were off to the station to catch our train back to Trieste. I slept an hour here and an hour there. A Slovenian man told me his life story, how he used to do drugs but now does Yoga. Border Patrol questioned me about where I was going and why. Then the cherry on top, we met three Croatians who bought us beers at 5 o’clock in the morning, only in Europe can you drink on a train 24 hours a day. You never know who you’ll meet on a train. These stories are by far my favorite souvenirs. 

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Food, Wine and the Police Station


The Basilica and Duomo
Florence: food, wine, history, and shopping, what more can you ask for? I spent this past weekend in Tuscany, what an amazing place! I arrived Friday afternoon, checked into the hostel and hit the ground running, well more like fast walking let’s not get crazy. First stop, the Duomo and it’s 463 steps to the top. I was glad to get the stair-master session in prior to dinner. The view from the top is magnificent and worth every euro, eight in total, despite the unavoidable perspiration. After the Duomo, I wandered down the streets of Florence, soaking up the southern-Italian culture that Trieste is lacking.
 
 Dinnertime came quickly and Jourdan, my travel partner, and I went to 4Leoni (Four Lions), recommended by her friend Anna. As we sat down I noticed pictures on the wall of Goldie Hawn, Kurt Russell, Sting, and Dustin Hoffman… I knew we were in the right place; if it’s good enough for Goldie it’s good enough for me. This restaurant has the most amazing pasta I have ever eaten, fioccheti di pera (stuffed pasta with pear and cheese), delizioso! If you go to Florence, I require that go eat this pasta! We finished dinner and were walking back to the hostel when we heard the voice of an angel! The angel turned out to be an Irish street performer, James O’Reily, serenading the crowd with Coldplay and Damien Rice.  As we sat and listened I scanned the crowd, everywhere I looked all I saw were couples and enough “amore” to make any single girl nauseous.
Boboli Gardens
A lot of Chianti







The highlight of my time in Tuscany was a visit to the Chianti region and a wine tasting at Castello del Trebbio, a 900-year-old castle once used by the Pazzi to plot the assassination of Lorenzo de’Medici, really interesting history but I won’t bore you with it here. At this castle they work miracles to create the best Chianti and extra-virgin olive oil that has ever touched my lips. They live by a saying that has become my new mantra; “the oil is good for the heart, but the wine feeds the soul.”
Unfortunately, my time under the Tuscan sun came to an end and it was back to Trieste with a little remembrance of home in hand, a McDonald’s happy meal. But never fear my life is seldom dull. Monday I went back to the police station for my fourth visit, and third attempt at my visa. I took my ticket and waited two hours to be told that I had to come back on Tuesday to meet with the Inspector. However, the officer that met with me remembered Jourdan and I from our previous visit when we attempted to communicate with phrases Jourdan looked up, and he laughed at us. At least he has fond memories. I went home and prepared my arsenal of documents and returned to the station this morning. After two more hours I left, sans visa, with two options; show the police 2,700 euro in cash or get an official bank declaration of funds by the end of the month… clearly they don’t want me to stay in there country. Who knows maybe my next post will be about getting deported?
Central Market